At the time, Cecilia had recognized that Ewan was the future Master of the Magic Tower.
That was why she had desperately stopped him from using magic to wipe out the bandit group in one go, and in the process, she had no choice but to reveal her identity and plans to him.
"I found it amusing. I'd never seen such a gutsy little kid who didn't even know how to use magic."
Ewan said with a faint smile.
"Little kid? You and I are only two years apart, you know. Back then you were short too."
Cecilia glanced at Ewan playfully. Her tone carried a certain familiarity, making both Gillen and Hexion tense up at the same time.
"But now I'm much taller than you."
Ewan said, staring straight at her. The playful look on Cecilia's face faded. Gillen swallowed hard. Wasn't this damn brat just blatantly trying to flirt? Cecilia, you mustn't fall for it!
As if she had heard Gillen's inner voice, Cecilia let out a small chuckle and brushed it off.
"Alright, congratulations on being tall. And on becoming a noble too, Ewan Hampton. I was surprised to hear you'd taken a different path than before."
"Before?"
"Oh, I mean, before you used to say you were going to be the Master of the Magic Tower! But instead of becoming the Tower Master, you chose to accept a title, so I was surprised."
Like the true regressor heroine she was, Cecilia had let a slip of the tongue escape. And just as expected of the male lead and the second male lead, Hexion and Ewan didn't take her slip too seriously.
Only Gillen quietly let out a sigh of relief while still keeping a wary eye on the atmosphere between Ewan and Cecilia. And sure enough, Ewan's attempt at charm was not over yet.
"That title, I got it because of you."
Ewan's face was serious.
"I became a marquis after learning you were a duke's daughter. To gain the qualification to propose to you."
In a society with a strict class hierarchy, even among nobles there were ranks. No matter how outstanding or capable a person was, if they were of a lower rank, the idea of becoming the consort of a duke's daughter was utterly out of reach.
Ewan's looks went far beyond simply "handsome," and his abilities were exceptional as well. He had been called "a genius born once in a thousand years" and was designated as the next Master of the Magic Tower at the age of fifteen. He was gifted with exceptional intellect, and—remarkably for a mage—he had no major flaws in character. On top of that, he was a rare extreme-dominant alpha, with reproductive traits superior to other males.
Even mages, who generally disliked gods and temples, had joked to him, "Aren't you the son of a god?" That was how much Ewan was acknowledged by all as a perfect human being.
Except for one thing—he had been a commoner.
When he was in the Magic Tower, status had never been an obstacle. The Tower was a place where rank was decided purely by magical ability. But if the woman Ewan wanted to marry was a noble—worse yet, a high-ranking noble—that was a different matter entirely.
'Noble? That's nothing. Once you become the Tower Master, it's solved. Look at me. I became Tower Master and got a completely useless earldom along with it.'
That was what the Tower Master had said, but an earldom alone wasn't enough. To even submit a marriage proposal to House Blake, one had to be at least a duke—or at the very least, a marquis.
So, Ewan made an entire continent yield to him. He brought back yet another imperial crown. It was an achievement so enormous that no one could dismiss it. Just as planned, he became Marquis Hampton.
"Why on earth do you even want to marry me?"
It was a question with the unspoken especially going that far hanging in the air. When Cecilia asked in puzzlement, Ewan simply shrugged.
"Your face meets my standard of beauty to some degree. And I like that blunt personality of yours. But most of all…"
Ewan paused, gracefully placing a piece of meat into his mouth. By keeping everyone waiting, he heightened their curiosity about what he would say next. Finally, after swallowing, he spoke.
"Because I decided so."
Gillen realized that was, in fact, the only reason Ewan was proposing. Ewan—who had never failed to get anything he set his mind to. Ewan—who bent everything to his will. So of course, he believed marriage would be no different. It all stemmed from his immense self-confidence and self-admiration.
"Impressive," Gillen muttered sarcastically without thinking. But Ewan took it at face value and gave a small nod.
"I am, rather."
"..."
Gillen sawed into his steak with extra force. No way was he giving his beautiful daughter to this arrogant second male lead brat. He bit into the meat with grim determination.
No matter how hard you try, it's still 'the other man is Hexion.' The reason I've kept blocking you all this time wasn't because I was afraid you'd replace the male lead—it was to make things a little easier for Cecilia.
Sensing Gillen's fierce gaze, Ewan raised one eyebrow slightly and looked his way.
"…Ahem."
Fearing Ewan might make another smug remark, Gillen quickly lowered his eyes. He heard a faint scoff from Ewan's direction.
That damn brat…
Gillen chomped down on his innocent steak, silently cursing Ewan in his heart.
***
After the meal, the real drinking began. Hexion shared the wine he had received from Gillen with everyone. With sweet desserts on the side, the alcohol went down so smoothly it barely felt like drinking at all. Before they knew it, one bottle was empty, and another was uncorked. The problem was, Hexion didn't seem even slightly drunk.
"…Your Highness, you hold your liquor well," Gillen said with mild displeasure.
Hexion smiled.
"I'm weak with distilled spirits, but I can handle fermented drinks. Even so, my tolerance is still nothing compared to the people of House Blake."
"What about him?"
Cecilia tilted her chin toward the opposite side of the table. Gillen and Hexion's eyes followed.
"Stop… staring at me, pleash."
Ewan mumbled, his cheeks flushed bright red.
"We already… made a contrash."
"Contract? Dad, what contract did you make with him?"
Cecilia frowned at Gillen. He smiled and stood up.
"Contract? You shouldn't take the words of a drunk man seriously. Looks like Marquis Hampton's had more than enough, so I'll take him to his room."
He strode around the table to the other side.
"You're going to carry Ewan by yourself?"
"For now, your dad can still handle a few sacks of rice just fine. Enjoy your conversation with His Highness the Crown Prince. I'll be right back."
Rattling off the words at machine-gun speed, Gillen hoisted Ewan onto his back and left the dining hall before anyone could stop him—
completely ignoring Ewan's slurred protests of,
"Wha'sh this? Put me down!"
***
Thud—Ewan's body landed on the bed with a flop. Already dead drunk, he only scrunched his brows once in discomfort.
"Why is it that the one who should be drunk isn't, and this brat is?"
Even after hauling a grown man up the stairs to the second floor, not a single bead of sweat formed on Gillen's forehead.
"Leaving you there any longer would've been trouble."
Clicking his tongue, Gillen wrapped Ewan tightly in the blanket. Perhaps because of the sudden intoxication, a faint stream of alpha pheromones was slipping out from him. Ewan's pheromones carried a sharp, fruity scent. Orange? Lemon? If he released them in full, the sweet-and-tart fragrance would probably make one's mouth water.
But as they were both alphas, the scent also stung Gillen's nose and left him feeling unpleasantly on edge. His skin prickled faintly. He trapped Ewan in the thick blanket, then stacked a pile of pillows on top.
"Mmm…"
The bundle of blankets twitched.
"What the—ugh… shit, again! Let go, let go of this!"
Right after the muttered curse, Ewan's pheromones suddenly flared in intensity. The blanket began thrashing violently.
"Haa—hah—hah… ngh…"
Strange, almost obscene breathing leaked from inside.
'Why is he breathing like that?'
Gillen frowned and quietly took a step back. He'd heard of people who got sexually charged when drunk, but he hadn't expected to see it firsthand.
Is he… rubbing himself in there? Knowing Ewan, he could just as easily pull himself out and shake it around, then somehow twist it so Gillen was painted as the pervert who provoked him.
'Better get out of here.'
Turning away, Gillen began inching toward the door.
"Haa… ngh… please… no…"
But his voice sounded strange. It wasn't lewd anymore—it was pained, almost like a sob. His breaths came in ragged gasps, as if he was struggling to breathe.
Gillen stopped in his tracks and stepped back toward the bed. When he moved the pillows aside, Ewan's unsettling, laboured breathing became clearer.
"Hampton? Hey, Hampton!"
Gillen pulled open the blanket and lifted the trapped man upright. Ewan's face was pale, as if he was hyperventilating, and tears were spilling from the corners of his closed eyes. Gillen pressed one hand over Ewan's nose and mouth, and with the other, firmly kneaded his shoulder.
"Hampton, snap out of it!"
"Ugh… Duke… Blake?"
"Yes, do you recognize me?"
"What… is… this…"
Ewan shook his head, knocking Gillen's hand away from his face.
"Are you… holding me right now?"
"You suddenly couldn't breathe and looked like you were in pain. I was only trying to help."
Gillen quickly let go of him.
"I know this looks like the perfect setup for a misunderstanding, but I swear, I was just trying to help you."
"…I know."
Ewan raked a hand irritably through his hair. It seemed he was all too familiar with this kind of episode.